


Caliburn

by Lurlur



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 1990s, Alternate Canon, Anal Sex, BDSM, Consensual Kink, Dom/sub Play, Dominant Aziraphale (Good Omens), Far softer than it should be, Fetish, Fetish Club, Fluff and Smut, Gentle Dom Aziraphale (Good Omens), Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Rimming, Sex Club, Smut, Submissive Crowley (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-03
Updated: 2019-09-03
Packaged: 2020-10-06 14:24:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20508488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lurlur/pseuds/Lurlur
Summary: Aziraphale has an assignment from Heaven that takes him to a London fetish club. A familiar face derails his plans in the best way.





	Caliburn

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to my discord cheerleaders and Head Cheerleader Insominia!

It was an unusual assignment, but not one without precedent. Aziraphale had learned to find grace and salvation in the most unusual of places during his tenure on Earth and this night was best viewed as a new opportunity to learn. God’s love was, after all, available to everyone, Aziraphale’s job was to help encourage people to embrace it. It was with these thoughts that he completed his preparations for the task ahead. Dressed uncharacteristically in all black, complete with heavy boots, Aziraphale felt as uncomfortable as if he were wearing someone else’s skin. Dress codes were a dreadful bore and the 1990s had such bizarre fashions. At least all black was relatively tame compared to some of the things he saw young people wearing these days.

A taxi was conveniently idling by the front of the bookshop when Aziraphale stepped out. He gave the address to the driver and sat back for the ride, running over the details of his assignment one last time. There would be a woman at this event, a woman suffering a crisis of faith at a critical time. If steered on to a righteous path, the ripple effect from her belief and charity would cause a domino effect of positivity. If she were to lose her faith, the world would be a poorer place for it. Aziraphale hadn’t been instructed in how to restore her faith, perhaps Heaven were dropping the micromanagement at long last.

The darkness of night concealed the entrance almost beyond detection; Aziraphale had to loiter in the area for several minutes, waiting for anyone else to turn up and reveal where to go. A couple appeared, wearing coats that didn’t quite suit the mildness of the air. They slipped into a recessed doorway, were briefly bathed in the light from inside and stepped out of sight. Aziraphale followed them, stepping into an area, not unlike the lobby of a small hotel. A man sat behind a desk, taking names and payment, explaining rules, and directing attendees to changing areas or the main room itself. Aziraphale checked in and handed over a banknote, only half-listening to the spiel he was given regarding proper behaviour. It hardly seemed likely that he’d run afoul of those particular rules.

Finally released, Aziraphale walked down a short corridor and through a thick beaded curtain. The couple he had followed in were just ahead of him, shedding their unseasonable coats to reveal a great deal more skin than Aziraphale usually saw. The taller woman wore knee-high boots, black satin briefs, and a matching corset pulled tight around her waist. Around her throat was a collar much finer than one would ever see on a pet. The shorter of the women was reaching up with a leash to clip on to the ring on the collar. She wore leather leggings held on with lacing up the outsides of her legs, revealing her lack of underwear, and a strapless bra in the same satin as her partner’s outfit. Aziraphale felt the love and trust that flowed between them and smiled softly. Love exists in every corner of the world, he reminded himself.

Aziraphale found the bar and ordered himself a glass of wine, just a touch of liquid courage before he could properly look around this event and find his quarry. He was every bit a duck out of water here and he mustn’t let on to anyone. Swallowing half his wine in one go, Aziraphale allowed himself a sweeping look at the room. It was a large space, several areas were furnished with comfortable seating and coffee tables, this was where most people were socialising and relaxing. In the open spaces between, the furniture was much more unusual and Aziraphale struggled to imagine how they might be used. He recognised a St Andrew’s Cross from, well, the martyrdom of St Andrew. There were benches and stocks, a sturdy metal cage, a wooden frame that looked like it should have swings for children hanging from it instead of the man entwined in ropes, and much more that Aziraphale couldn’t begin to identify. He knew from the information he’d been given at the door that there were some secluded areas for people to have some measure of privacy, should they wish it.

As daunting as he found the event, Aziraphale was reassured and calmed by the feelings he was surrounded by; love, friendship, excitement, contentment. He closed his eyes and let the positive atmosphere seep into his skin. Upon opening his eyes again, he spotted the woman he had been sent to help. She was sat with a small group of people and chatting animatedly, clearly relaxed and among friends. Aziraphale appreciated her understated style; black stilettos with a flash of red at the sole, a well-tailored pencil skirt, and a sleek latex bustier, her hair was tied up in a chignon that bordered on severe but suited her all the same. Knowing that the sooner he completed his assignment, the sooner he could be back at the bookshop in his usual attire and with a nice cocoa, Aziraphale made the move to introduce himself to the group and begin learning what his target needed.

“Hello!” Aziraphale addressed the group as a whole. “May I join you? I find myself quite alone this evening.”

As he spoke, he planted seeds of recognition in the more receptive minds and established himself as a familiar and trusted face at these events. Just enough so that he would be welcome, not so much that anyone might risk being overly forward and force an uncomfortable rejection. Faces lit with welcoming smiles as people shuffled to make space for him.

“Mr Fell! How good to see you, come, sit.” A man named Simon patted a seat beside him. Aziraphale caught the mental correction; Simon was a name for outside these walls, in here his name was Rocks. Shaking the offered hand, Aziraphale allowed himself to be introduced to the others in the group, nodding and greeting to those who he had gifted with fabricated memories. The woman he needed to meet was going by Lady Lily, she greeted him warmly enough but kept glancing around as if looking for someone yet to arrive. The humans fell back into their previous conversation, a rather gossipy discussion about a new relationship between a couple currently absent and whether or not they were a good match. When Lady Lily joined the chatter, Aziraphale was pleased to hear her argue on the side of love above judgement. He dropped a few words in support of her position and was rewarded with a sweet smile. He saw her eyes flick over his shoulder as her smile grew to a grin of pure joy. Footsteps sounded behind him and he surmised that the person she had been waiting for had arrived. A man wearing only tight, black, leather trousers sauntered past Aziraphale and into the outstretched arms of Lady Lily. Aziraphale’s stomach dropped, suddenly full of shards of jagged ice. He’d recognise that barely functional walk anywhere.

Crowley.

Aziraphale displayed supernatural restraint in keeping his expression neutral, allowing himself to be introduced once more to Crowley. Unfortunately, Crowley didn’t have the advantage of a few seconds preparation and nearly choked on his own tongue at the sight of Aziraphale, clad in black, looking almost relaxed, in a fetish club.

“Are you alright, Crowley?” Lady Lily asked, concerned.

“Hnnng, uh, yeah. Yes, Lady Lily. It was just a surprise is all. Mr Fell is an old acquaintance and not someone I expected to run into here.”

Aziraphale was impressed with how quickly Crowley regained his composure. Other than flashing a look that clearly questioned what the _fuck_ Aziraphale was doing here, he appeared to get over the surprise within seconds.

“Would you like a drink, Lady Lily?” Crowley asked.

“Oh yes, please. Same as always.” She gave him an affectionate pat on the shoulder. “Don’t forget about our friends.”

Crowley inclined his head to her and took the drink orders of everyone in the group. Aziraphale swallowed back the last of his wine along with a measure of envy at the easy intimacy Crowley was displaying and receiving. To be able to just touch his bare skin like that, Aziraphale could barely imagine it. There was clearly some agreement or understanding between Crowley and Lady Lily, the way that Crowley deferred to her, took orders, looked for her approval, other than driving Aziraphale to distraction it signalled that at the very least he was under her protection.

“Would you like assistance carrying drinks back, Crowley?” It was an innocent question, giving him the option to decline and tell Aziraphale that they shouldn’t interact more than necessary.

“Oh, yeah. Thanks.”

Aziraphale stood and followed Crowley to the bar, trying not to focus on the soft-looking skin at the small of his back, swaying with those sinful hips and begging to feel the touch of Aziraphale’s hand. Crowley ordered the drinks and waited for the bartender to step away before hissing out of the side of his mouth.

“What are you playing at, Angel?”

“I’m on an assignment.” He wanted to hear that Crowley was working too, that this was one of Hell’s schemes but asking meant accepting the possibility that this was pleasure for Crowley.

“Oh of cooooourse.” Crowley drawled. “Lady Lily, I presume?”

“Yes, she’s having a crisis of faith.” With Crowley in her life, it wasn’t hard to see why that might be happening.

Crowley groaned.

“I’ve been working this assignment for _months_, you know. Now you waltz in at the eleventh hour to scupper everything.”

Aziraphale breathed a sigh of relief, it _was_ work.

“I’m surprised you didn’t mention it sooner. I’d have stayed away as per our arrangement.”

That earned him a sharp look from Crowley.

“She’s a good person, you know. I’m sure you’re judging her enough just for being in a place like this, but she is almost too good.”

“There’s nothing to judge here, Crowley. Expressions of love and consensual human intimacy take many forms.”

Crowley fully turned to face Aziraphale at that, eyebrows raised above the frames of his sunglasses.

“That. That is not what I expected to hear from you.”

“I think there are a great many things about me that would still surprise you.” He hadn’t meant to sound so superior, but there it was.

Crowley sniffed and pushed his sunglasses back up. The bartender reappeared with drinks which Crowley paid for with cash he certainly didn’t have the pockets for.

Back at the couches, they distributed drinks and Aziraphale tried not to think about the things he’d wanted to say. He watched Crowley settle himself on the floor by Lady Lily’s feet and rest his head against her thigh. As she dragged red nails through his mop of auburn hair, he closed his eyes and looked so peaceful. There was the jealousy again, burning at the back of Aziraphale’s throat. He didn’t want to watch Crowley be petted and enjoyed by strangers, that was _his _demon_, _not theirs. The burst of possessiveness was a shock. Aziraphale had known how he felt about Crowley for a long time, and had fairly recently come to believe that the feelings were returned, but they didn’t talk about it. They didn’t act upon these _inconvenient_ emotions. It was part of the arrangement. But to expect Aziraphale to sit here and watch Crowley flirt, preen and fawn, to see affection heaped upon Crowley by hands that were not his, it was too much to bear.

Before his agitation could break the surface, Aziraphale excused himself to the gents. His mission all but forgotten, he paced the room, catching flashes of his flushed face in the mirrors above each sink. His fists balled tightly at his sides, Aziraphale fought the urge to scream in frustrated impotence. Crowley had been mere inches from him, half undressed and as available as it is possible to be, and still Aziraphale had not touched him. This temptation was too much if even an angel could not bear it. Slamming his back into the wall and hiding his face in his hands, Aziraphale slid down the tiles until he was crouched and near weeping.

The door opened and Aziraphale looked up, prepared to snarl at whoever disturbed him. Crowley peered around the door, concern written across his face.

“What’s going on?” Upon catching sight of Aziraphale slumped against the wall, Crowley rushed in and closed the distance between them, falling to his knees beside him. “Does this assignment really mean that much to you?” He sounded genuinely confused.

Through waterlogged lashes, Aziraphale saw all the beauty that Crowley embodied, so close to him and yet out of reach. Wasn’t he? Always just out of reach. He extended a hand towards Crowley and gasped with surprise as his palm landed on Crowley’s shoulder.

Crowley didn’t pull away, Aziraphale kept noticing just how much Crowley didn’t pull away. He only intended to draw him a little closer, to experiment with this development and see if Crowley would resist. He only knew that he had overshot his mark when their lips met, Aziraphale’s grip on Crowley’s shoulder loosening and sliding down the cool skin of his back. For the briefest of moments, they both froze, waiting for the other to move, instead, they came to life together tugging at each other and wrapping arms around welcoming torsos.

Aziraphale marvelled at how it felt to kiss Crowley, how his soft lips yielded and gave in to him. He sat on the floor properly so he might pull Crowley in to his lap. His hands ran softly up and down the delicious skin of Crowley’s back until one found the base of his neck and slid up into his hair. He sucked at Crowley’s bottom lip and flicked his tongue against it, begging for access to the mouth behind it.

With his hands locked behind Aziraphale’s neck, Crowley moaned and offered up his own tongue. Hot, wet, velvet touches, tentative at first soon gave way to bold exploration and muffled gasps. It was everything that Aziraphale had imagined and so much more at once. Crowley, in his arms, returning his kisses, holding on as tightly as he dared. Finally, he broke away, just moving enough that he could take in the image of Crowley, wide-eyed and gasping. In their haste, Crowley’s sunglasses had been knocked to the floor and Aziraphale was grateful for it, for having Crowley’s unguarded gaze of adoration and lust focused on him. His lips were rosy and slightly swollen, inviting another kiss, but other things needed tending to first.

“Is this OK? I should have asked.”

Crowley laughed kindly.

“You definitely shouldn’t have. If you’d asked, I might have said no out of duty or fear of ruining you. This was far better.” Crowley brought his forehead to rest against Aziraphale’s, his eyes closing.

They share breath for a minute.

“We’ve been in here quite a while. People will start to wonder.” Aziraphale tried not to sound worried.

“Don’t fret about that, I filled in our back story a bit. Told them all that we were ex-lovers split by circumstance rather than acrimony. They’re probably all expecting something exactly like this to be happening.”

Aziraphale took hold of Crowley’s shoulders and held him at arm's length, looking at him sternly.

“What about Lady Lily? Did you just sabotage your own assignment to come and check up on me?”

Crowley pouted at being removed from the embrace.

“Don’t flatter yourself, Angel.” He huffed. “She and I aren’t in a relationship; as far as she knows we’re both single and scratching itches together. It works well enough to keep me close to her.”

“That’s alright then.” Aziraphale relented and pressed Crowley against his chest again.

Another minute passed.

“Actually, we should get up from the floor of the men’s toilets.” Aziraphale decided.

Crowley unfolded himself from Aziraphale’s lap and offered his hands to assist Aziraphale in standing. With a snap of his fingers, Crowley had Aziraphale looking as neat and unrumpled as he had at the beginning of the night.

“You know, I think I like you in black.” Crowley teased, then a thought occurred to him and he blanched. “Oh, err, I think I need to catch you up on some things. Just for tonight, you understand.”

Aziraphale raised his eyebrows in question. Crowley continued.

“I had to fit what Lady Lily wanted and that meant being submissive. While I’m here, that’s what I am. I’m not going to abandon her just because you’re here, either.” He looked nervous, as if he feared that Aziraphale might now reject him.

“Crowley, I wouldn’t ask you to. I don’t want to interfere, just know that I am here and that this is how I feel.” He curled a finger under Crowley’s chin and kissed him softly.

Crowley sighed and took Aziraphale’s hand, pressing a kiss to his knuckles.

“Of all the situations for this to come out...”

Aziraphale had to agree, it was ridiculous really. They had shared so many dinners, so many evenings that could have been read as romantic, and yet here whilst they were both on the clock, so to speak, at a sex club and playing roles where they finally faced their feelings. He chuckled and opened the door, leading Crowley back to their seats by the hand he still held. Once they were level with Lady Lily, Aziraphale lifted Crowley’s hand to his lips, pressing a kiss into his palm before releasing him back to where he had come from. Crowley knelt back beside Lady Lily and gave her a wicked grin.

His stomach was in knots but all Aziraphale could do was watch as she leaned in to Crowley and whispered to him. He could eavesdrop, if he chose to, but that felt wrong in the circumstances. He knew they would be talking about him, he’d just have to trust that Crowley would tell him the details later. The way they whispered together and kept glancing over was maddening, Aziraphale offered Lady Lily a tight smile, his assignment all but forgotten. The whispers got incrementally louder until Aziraphale could clearly hear the gasped “On the floor in the_ toilets?”_ from Lady Lily and he had to look down at his hands in shame.

Crowley shushed her and brought the volume back down, sparing Aziraphale an apologetic glance. Finally, she sat back with a cat-like grace and laughing eyes.

“Well, Mr Fell, it seems that you’ve been helping yourself to my property?” She crossed her legs and fixed him with an amused look.

Around their group, a combined gasp and chuckle broke any tension that might have formed. The humour relaxed Aziraphale and helped him remember the role he was supposed to be playing.

“I didn’t see your name on him.” He shrugged. “He insisted that he belongs to no-one.”

His answer clearly pleased both Lady Lily and Crowley, who lost some of the tension in his shoulders.

“Oh, is that so. Crowley? Is that what you said?” She held his chin in a way that made Aziraphale want to bat her hand away.

“Yes, Lady Lily. I did.”

“That’s not what you told me though, is it?” Her voice was a curious mix of laughter and steel.

“No, Lady Lily.”

“Do you want to tell the nice Mr Fell what you told me, or shall I do it and save you the embarrassment?”

Aziraphale saw Crowley wince behind his glasses and swallow convulsively. He mouthed a single word to her. Please. He couldn’t say it out loud yet, he meant, please help. She smiled, showing her teeth.

“Very well, dearest.” She released his chin and stroked his cheek before turning back to Aziraphale. “He told me that he _does_ belong to someone. Not me, I’m afraid although not for want of trying. Our lovely Crowley has informed me that he belongs to you.”

Those observing this exchange made excited little noises, helped along by an almost palpable wave of love that Aziraphale had lost control of.

“Go on then, Crowley. This isn’t your spot any more.” She shooed him away.

Crowley got to his knees and crawled away from her, towards Aziraphale’s seat. She gave him one last friendly swat on the buttocks. Aziraphale reached out towards Crowley, stroking his face and hair as he settled in his new spot beside Aziraphale’s feet. Leaning down to kiss him, Aziraphale had questions to ask.

“I thought you weren’t going to abandon her?”

“Uh, yeah, well, about that. Change of plan, it turns out. She, uh, didn’t want to stand in the way of true love.”

“Crowley, are you _blushing_?”

“Shuddup Angel,” Crowley muttered into Aziraphale’s knee. “Besides, I’m still here. I didn’t go far.”

Aziraphale hummed reassuringly and combed his fingers through Crowley’s hair. Conversation amongst the group quickly moved on, possibly nudged on by a subtle demonic miracle so Crowley could stop blushing quite so hard. Aziraphale found it all very endearing, to be honest.

Time had moved on and the event was in full swing, people had loosened up and moved into the open area. Although he couldn’t understand the joy these humans found in hurting or being hurt, in humiliation and degradation, Aziraphale _did_ appreciate the hedonistic feel and the unfiltered intimacy on display. Humans were so much more interesting when they were allowed to be themselves, in his opinion. Crowley’s attention was directed towards a couple using one of the benches, Aziraphale decided to watch and see if he could understand the appeal.

The woman was nude, kneeling on the bench with her upper body laying along the back. Her arse and thighs were presented to her partner. She wasn’t bound but she stayed very still all the same. Her partner, a tall man with long, dark hair, was stroking her as one might calm a horse. His hands ran down her thighs and across her backside while he leaned close and whispered to her. Suddenly, he smacked her hard on the buttock. As quick as that, he transitioned into raining a rhythmic pattern of blows against her pale flesh. Once he had turned her white cheeks to a rosy red, he picked up a riding crop from a bag by his feet and peppered her with quick taps, judging her tenderness, whilst telling her how good she was being for him.

Aziraphale felt Crowley shift against his leg and glanced down, he was still engrossed in the scene before them but perhaps enjoying it more than he wanted to let on. A loud crack drew Aziraphale’s attention back sharply, the man had landed the first heavy blow with the crop. The woman’s head lifted but she didn’t cry out. A red stripe crossed the tops of her thighs, tracing the impact over the top of the pink hue she’d developed already. Again, her partner caressed her and praised her, checking in with her before continuing. Aziraphale noticed that the man made sure that he was always touching his submissive, a hand on her back or his thigh against her calf, she would always be able to feel his presence.

Crowley squirmed again and gave Aziraphale an idea.

“Come up here, Crowley.” He reached for him, drawing Crowley into his lap.

Wrapping his arms around Crowley’s waist, Aziraphale rested his chin on Crowley’s shoulder where he might be able to whisper directly to him. The source of Crowley’s fidgeting was more obvious now, his arousal all too evident through the front of his tight trousers. Just as Aziraphale had suspected.

“Dearest, I’m a bit lost. You’re more of an expert, would you answer some things for me?”

Crowley nodded.

“That’s a good boy.”

Crowley almost gave himself whiplash with the speed that he turned to stare at Aziraphale. For his part, Aziraphale played innocent and ran soft fingers up and down Crowley’s spine.

“Why does she allow this? She could get up at any point.”

“Most probably, she likes it too. Some humans get pleasure from pain. And, uh, some submissives who don’t like pain so much, they, uh, they like pleasing their dominant. If hurting her pleases him, he will be proud of her for taking it well.”

Aziraphale considered this as if it was entirely new information.

“I see. How, then, does he know that he’s not going too far?”

“You see how he checks in with her? He can see the way she reacts and how she’s doing. Also, at any point, she can tell him to stop and he will.”

“It’s trust, then?”

“Yes, that’s it. She trusts him to read her well enough, to know what she can take, and he trusts her to tell him the truth and alert him if things change. The exchange of trust is key in these relationships.”

Aziraphale nodded, kissing Crowley’s bare shoulder as it was so conveniently placed close to his lips. He drew one hand around to Crowley’s stomach.

“Do you trust me, Crowley?” As he spoke, Aziraphale dropped his hand to gently press against the straining bulge in Crowley’s lap.

“Yesssss,” Crowley hissed. “I trust you with my life.”

“You’re so good. Aren’t you? You’re so good for me.” Aziraphale’s voice was low and seductive.

Bringing his hands up to his face, Crowley choked out a laugh and a moan.

“I’ve created a monster! I taught an angel how to tempt and now look how that has come back to haunt me! This is worse than the M25!” His exclamations were muted for the sake of privacy, but the feeling behind them was unfiltered.

Aziraphale laughed kindly.

“Is there anything here that you want, Crowley? Shall I tie you up in knots, or whip you until you beg, or write filthy things all over your perfect skin? What do you crave?”

Aziraphale felt the deep, shuddering breath that Crowley took to steady himself, he eased the heel of his palm into Crowley’s erection in response.

“Angel, pleasssse.”

“That’s not an answer, dearheart. Tell me.”

The answer came in a breath so faint that Aziraphale might have missed it if he weren’t so attuned to Crowley.

“You. Just you.”

“You can have me. Where?” He punctuated his words with kisses <strike>up </strike>along Crowley’s neck.

Aziraphale found himself with an empty lap, being pulled up by an impatient Crowley who had clearly decided that almost exactly 6000 years was long enough to wait.

“This way.”

Crowley wove between couches and tables, heading for the more discreet side rooms. Aziraphale wondered how many times Crowley had been inside them before, not that it changed anything. They slipped inside an empty room and closed the door. There was a futon, a chair, a bin, and a side table with condoms and lube set out like party favours. Aziraphale caught Crowley’s wrist and closed the distance between them, wrapping his arms around his love.

“You tell me to stop and I will, no matter what. Forget what you think I want and tell me as soon as you’re uncomfortable. Promise me that, Crowley.”

“I promise.”

“Good boy.” Aziraphale crooned and was rewarded with a guttural groan from Crowley.

He kissed Crowley then, pressing their bodies together and making sure that Crowley could feel that the arousal was most decidedly shared.

“Trousers off, if you’d be so kind.” Aziraphale instructed as only he could.

Sheepishly, Crowley snapped his fingers and the trousers were folded over the back of the chair.

“S’easier that way.”

Aziraphale held him at arm's length, maintaining their connection but getting the chance to really see Crowley. His wiry body belied the snake he was, all sleek muscle and tight skin. His cock stood proudly, thick and rigid, flushed with colour.

“Oh, you’re so beautiful. Aren’t you just perfect?” He circled Crowley, murmuring praise continuously and keeping at least one hand on his bare skin at all times. Crowley whimpered and fidgeted, loving the praise while chafing under the sweetness of it.

Aziraphale stopped behind Crowley, stepping closer and pressing kisses along his shoulders, up his neck, into the back of his jaw, slowly and adoringly. With his lips just behind Crowley’s ear, Aziraphale gave voice to the words that had lived in his heart for so long.

“I love you, Crowley.”

But before Crowley could return the sentiment, Aziraphale clamped a hand over his mouth.

“No words from you, I think. Unless it’s to tell me to stop, I don’t want to hear a single word from you. Understood?”

Crowley nodded, his eyes wide where they peered out around his glasses.

“Good boy, I knew you’d be so, _so_ good for me.”

He released Crowley’s mouth and continued with his kisses as he ran his hands up and down Crowley’s sides.

“I’m going to do such awful things to you, and you’re going to be so good, aren’t you.” It wasn’t a question.

Crowley shivered but Aziraphale suspected that it had little to do with the temperature. He pressed his own erection against Crowley’s arse, rubbing the fabric of his trousers between them and enjoying the choked moans that Crowley couldn’t quite keep inside. With one hand on the back of Crowley’s neck, he pressed him down, forcing him to bend at the waist.

“Hands on the back of the futon, there we go. Good, good boy.”

With Crowley in position, Aziraphale silently sent his clothing to join the trousers on the chair. He held Crowley at the waist and pressed his cock between his cheeks, gently rocking up and down, using Crowley as one might use a masturbation toy. The whimpering from Crowley intensified the moment he realised that Aziraphale was undressed.

“Good, beautiful Crowley. Marvellous, clever, sweet, indecent Crowley. Oh, how I love you.”

Aziraphale felt the flinch his words induced and soothed it with kisses down Crowley’s spine. When he reached the tailbone, Aziraphale got to his knees directly behind Crowley and dipped his tongue into the cleft at the top of his buttocks. A pause, but no complaint came. If anything, Crowley canted his hips back ever so slightly, urging Aziraphale on. He complied, pushing his tongue deeper and lower to find the spot he sought.

Starting with a gentle lapping motion, Aziraphale explored the sensitive opening. It was hot on his tongue, much more so than the surrounding skin. Responding to the audible cues that flowed from a helpless Crowley, Aziraphale increased the pressure and speed of his lapping, evolving to a more pointed darting that began to open Crowley up so sweetly. Crowley positively vibrated as Aziraphale eased him apart, whimpers and moans escaping his tightly pressed lips. There was no hesitation or reserve in Aziraphale now, he delved in with his strong tongue seeking the very core of Crowley’s heat. Saliva coated his lips and chin, smearing across Crowley’s arse and running down to his taut balls reminding Aziraphale of the most delicious ripe fruit, begging to be plucked, a sin waiting to happen.

Aziraphale chased the rivulets then, spreading wet trails across the velvet skin of Crowley’s sack. A desperate whine told Aziraphale that his attentions were well received.

“You’re doing so well, so very well.” A calming hand ran down Crowley’s leg during a few restful seconds. “I’m so proud of you.”

Without warning Aziraphale buried his face against Crowley, sucking his balls into his mouth one at a time and running his tongue across them. Grabbing his hips to keep Crowley from bucking and breaking his nose, Aziraphale licked a wet stripe upwards with a firm stroke. Keeping his hands in place, he stood and drew Crowley upright to rest his back against Aziraphale’s chest.

“Are you doing OK, my love?” He searched Crowley’s face for any trace of discomfort or upset.

With shining eyes, Crowley nodded vigorously whilst keeping his lips pressed paper-thin as though he feared a flood of words might break through.

“You’re so beautiful, Crowley. You are. I can’t believe that I can touch you like this… I never thought I could touch you like this.” His hands traced lightly around Crowley’s torso, crossing and pulling him tight to Aziraphale.

His kisses were harder now, more needy, more fierce, landing on Crowley’s neck and shoulders in flurries. Crowley’s head lolled back, exposing expanses of skin to receive Aziraphale’s kisses even as he whimpered in need.

The ache in his cock was becoming urgent and Aziraphale knew that he was testing his own patience as much as Crowley’s. Just a little longer, just prolong this moment a few more seconds, remember every moan, every gasp, every shudder. There will only ever be one first time and this one has been millennia in the making. Aziraphale wanted to commit every tiny detail to memory almost as much as he wanted to have Crowley impaled on his cock.

His resolve broke and he turned them both, pushing Crowley against the wall and pinning him there with his whole body, his obvious hardness pressed between them.

“Look at how good you’re being.” Aziraphale growled, low and animalistic.

Crowley exhaled one trembling breath that belied his arousal. The sound was better than any symphony and Aziraphale its conductor. He grasped his cock and nudged the head against Crowley’s saliva slick opening. Hips pressed back against him, urging him on. With gritted teeth, Aziraphale resisted and pushed Crowley more firmly into the wall.

“Patience. You’ll get what I give you, not what you take.”

He felt Crowley turn to jelly against him, weakened by this softest of admonitions. Only then did he ease forwards, feeling the resistance grip the head of him and draw him into the blessed heat of Crowley. Aziraphale drew a hissed breath between his teeth as he adjusted to the tightness that held him, Crowley was panting with his eyes squeezed tight.

“Still with me, love?”

Crowley nodded emphatically. Part of Aziraphale entertained the idea of pulling out and leaving Crowley wanting just for the thrill of it. But he was too far gone himself, too needy. Burying his face in the junction of Crowley’s neck and shoulder, Aziraphale inched himself inside with agonising slowness. Guided by Crowley’s gasps and mewls, he kept him on the edge of overwhelmed without falling into pain. Finally, he was sunk to the hilt, buried like Caliburn and surely just as immovable. The hot, wet depth of Crowley held him with intoxicating tightness, a feel so _right_ that he couldn’t believe he’d never experienced it before. Crowley was near keening, a thin wail rising from his throat. Aziraphale smothered the sound with kisses, giving Crowley as much of him as he could. He rolled his hips, wrenching a cry from his lover. The sound was a siren call and Aziraphale responded, finally beginning to move against Crowley and fucking him into the wall.

“Let me hear you, beloved. Tell me what you want. You’re doing so very well, just let me hear you, there’s a good boy.” He punctuated his words with wet kisses along Crowley’s neck.

For a long moment, Crowley only cried his wordless need, staggered and broken as Aziraphale thrust into him.

“Use me, Angel.” Barely audibly, he begged. “I’m yours, please.” Thin fingers clutched uselessly at the wall.

Aziraphale obliged, fucking his desire, his lust, his hunger into Crowley. Just barely this side of reckless abandon, Aziraphale used his body to say everything he had kept inside for _oh _so long. His hands held serpentine hips down and steady, using everything Crowley gave him and more. His climax loomed, narrowing his focus like blinkers. He shot one hand around Crowley reaching for his neglected cock, slippery with pre-come and rock-solid in his fist.

“Aziraphale!” Crowley cried, overwhelmed.

“I’m here, my love. You’re being so good, I’m so very proud of you.” Aziraphale ran his hand up and down Crowley’s shaft as he spoke. “Are you close? Can you come with me?”

Crowley nodded, a choked cry taking the place of words.

“Oh Crowley, I love you. You’re wonderful and perfect. Look how well you take me. Look how you please me.”

Aziraphale faltered then, his orgasm wrenching the words from his tongue and the air from his lungs. A second later and he felt the convulsions around his cock and wetness in his hand that heralded Crowley’s own climax. They were both breathless and shaking, relying on the wall more than each other to keep them standing. So human, so _vulnerable_ in this shared moment. Aziraphale took a deep breath of Crowley, drawing him down into his lungs and tasting the fire and spice of him. It was enough, just for now it was enough.

There are unsteady steps to the futon, Crowley curled in Aziraphale’s lap asking to hear it again, Aziraphale’s fingers combing through flame-red hair, and whispered reassurances that this is real, this happened, this is the world now. Crowley is finally able to return the declaration that Aziraphale had given so freely. Their love is sealed with countless kisses until they, at last, realise that they should vacate this room.

“I really do like you in black.” Crowley offered just before they returned to their couch.

Aziraphale wondered how they could ever pretend that the whole world hadn’t just been changed forever, go back to sitting and chatting and drinking. There were no schoolyard jabs or knowing looks when they returned, acts of love were not to be belittled and Aziraphale’s appreciation for this crowd grew a little more. He sat, pulling Crowley back into his lap before he could sink to the floor.

“Stay with me, love.”

Crowley blushed and hid his face, too flustered to play cool. Their bubble of love and contentment was impenetrable, infecting those around them with flashes of positivity and lightness. Perhaps too late, Aziraphale remembered why he had even come to this club tonight. Pausing in his near-constant praise of Crowley, Aziraphale glanced up to find Lady Lily watching them with a drink swirling absently in her hand. She smiled and stood, walking the short distance between them and perching beside Aziraphale with Crowley’s back to her.

“I was a little miffed to have my playmate snatched away, I’ll admit, but look at you two. How could I have stood in the way of this?” She laid her hand on Aziraphale’s arm, letting her fingertips just brush Crowley’s back. “I wish you both a lifetime of happiness together.”

“Thank you, sincerely, Lady Lily.” Aziraphale focused on the spot on his arm where her fingers rested. “Bless you, may you find all that you seek.”

She looked at him a little oddly and drew her hand away, rubbing her thumb across the pads of her fingers.

“Thank you. Now, there’s a gentleman over there with my name on, if you’ll excuse me.” She stood and walked away with a grace rarely seen in humans.

“I felt that, Angel,” Crowley whispered softly. “I guess this one is a win for you.”

Something about his tone and the sparkle behind his glasses told Aziraphale that this was one assignment that he really didn’t mind losing out on.

“That was just a nice gesture for a generous soul. I won much earlier this evening.” Then Aziraphale kissed Crowley with the promise of a million more burning on his tongue.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first dive into smut. I hope you enjoyed it, please let me know your thoughts!


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